Like Any Other Day
by tygermommy
Summary: What happens when Dean's escapades finally catch up to him? He's not ready to be a father, and neither is the mother, that is, until Abaddon becomes involved. NOT a Mary-Sue. Lotsa fun and supernatural goodness. Gosh, I wish they'd make this into an episode...WARNINGS for Dean's language, some sexual talk. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! It'll keep me going! Chapters 2 and 3 up!
1. Chapter 1

The day started like any other day—the Winchesters awoke, Sam before Dean, the coffee was made and breakfast was eaten and cleaned up. Sam was researching on his computer diligently, as usual, and Dean was continuing to sort through the numerous and uncategorized relics in the bunker.

"Hey—dude, did you ever see anything like this?" Dean held up a small, oddly-shaped box with an inscription on the outside.

"No. Take a picture of it and send it to me. I'll check it out on the 'net later. "

Dean did as he was asked. Sam was in the process of organizing and categorizing everything the bunker held and trying desperately to bring their new home into the 21st century. It was a slow process, to say the least…

He could see from the corner of his eye that Dean continued to fiddle with it. "I wouldn't open it if I were you." He shook his head.

Dean silently glanced over to his brother, eyed the object suspiciously, put in back in the drawer where it was previously held and commanded it to stay there.

He grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen and joined his brother at the table. "You got anything?"

Sam lowered his brows as he was reading an article from the internet. He twisted his head as he read it out loud to his brother. "It may not be anything, and it's not hurting anyone, but 50 sailors reported seeing the Green Flash off the coast of Mexico two days ago. Weird."

"Why is that weird?"

"Well, sailors have a lot of lore, but to have 50 of them say they saw it is pretty unusual. It only lasts for a millisecond and…"

There was a knock at the door.

Their eyes locked on each other and both became silent. Another one came, and this time it was more insistent. The bunker was so far out of the way and so well-concealed that to have anyone actually knock at the door hardly appeared as though it would be a welcome intrusion. Charlee would have called or emailed first, and Kevin was tucked safely away with Garth. Both Winchesters grabbed the weapons nearest to them and prepared for the possible hostile invasion. Having done this together for so long, the brothers worked in silent tandem to meet whatever was on the other side. Dean took his place behind the opening with a katana and Sam cracked it open.

It was Cas. And he wasn't alone. He had a young woman slumped over his right shoulder in a fireman's carry. She wasn't awake.

"It's Cas." He widened the space to allow him to enter and Dean lowered his sword.

Cas carried the woman easily down the steps. Sam and Dean eyed each other as they followed. They'd had cases find them before, but one never literally appeared at their doorstep…

Cas laid the woman down on a leather sofa not far from the map table and began to brush her dark hair away from her face. She was dressed in professional attire with long gray slacks and a pretty blue sleeveless top with ruffles along the plunging neckline. It didn't take Dean long to recognize her.

"Hey—that's the girl from Pittsburgh," he started. "Why is the girl from Pittsburgh here, Cas?"

"THE girl from Pittsburgh?" Sam raised his eyebrows at this brother. _This can't be good._

"Yeah. Cas, explain."

Cas turned to the brothers and sighed. "She needs to be protected. Particularly by you, Dean."

Dean's eyes wandered about the room, then focused again on Cas. "She needs protected? By me? Why Cas? What happened?"

Cas took an uncharacteristic deep breath. "Maybe you should sit down."

Dean furrowed his brow and did what his friend asked. Sam looked suspiciously at his brother and the angel. _Nope. This isn't good at all. _

"This is the girl you—spent time with in Pittsburgh a few days ago, is it not?"

Dean nodded. He recalled for a moment how mad Sam was after they'd separated for the night and Dean hadn't reappeared until 4pm the next day. The younger Winchester was ready to call in the cavalry to find his brother only to learn he'd spent the night with a woman he'd met at Primanti's and forgot, apparently, what a cell phone was for.

48 HOURS EARLIER:

Sam dropped (no—slammed) his phone on the table as his haggard, hung-over brother opened the motel door. "Dude! Where were you?"

"Um, a few blocks down…at a place called The Duquesne, I think. Hot girl."

"I called you, like, a billion times! We're chasing a ghost from the French-American War and you decided to take a break? What the hell?"

"She was a masseuse. I needed a massage. She said it would reduce my tension. I am a neurosurgeon, after all."

"Oh, God."

"That's what she said."

PRESENT DAY:

Sam clenched his jaw. He was still mad. He'd spent most of that morning panicked, thinking his brother had been sucked back in time-or worse—and had called everyone and consulted everything he could have as a way of mounting a rescue. He made sure his brother knew that he was angry, too. It was a long, mute trip home…

"She has conceived. As a result of your union."

This smacked Sam out of his reverie. _What did he just say?_ Sam looked at the angel and then at his brother, who stood, disbelieving for a moment, almost with the same expression of the Golem when he didn't have his little scrolly-thingy inside his mouth.

Dean's eyes widened and he ran his hand over his face. "Conceived? Conceived. Like, with a baby, conceived?"

"Yes."

"It was, like, two days ago, Cas, and we used-."

"No, you didn't."

"Is she a monster?"

"No. She's not a monster. She's human."

Dean sat down in a nearby chair with his hand over his mouth. He looked at the girl and then closed his eyes. Sam stepped forward and put his hand on Dean's' shoulder.

"You can tell that soon?"

"Yes. As soon as the fertilized egg implants in the uterus. Sperm only last three days in the female reproductive system, and-."

Dean stood up from his chair and started to pace, glancing at the sleeping woman every few steps. "I'm gonna be sick."

Sam watched as his older brother approached the liquor cabinet and poured himself a rocks glass full of Jack Daniels. His hand was shaking. Neither he nor Cas said a word as he lifted the drink to his mouth and downed the whole thing at once.

It didn't seem to help.

He stared at her for what felt like an hour. Cas remained silent and Sam paced some, but neither said a word. Dean spoke up again.

"Does she know?"

"No. Not yet."

The elder Winchester closed his eyes and looked to Sam like he was thinking _really hard_. "How did you get her here?"

"She was at work and I waited until she got into the elevator to take a break. I told her she needed to come with me, and then I brought her here."

"Oh, great. So now we have a woman who doesn't know she's pregnant and we kidnapped her. That's just great. Kidnapped by an angel. Angel-napping."

"I needed to get her here as soon as possible. If anyone in the supernatural community knows that you're having a child, Dean, they could terrorize her in more ways than one. And to think what might happen to the child-."

"Okay—OKAY! I get it! Wait. Please just stop for a minute, please? Just stop."

"He's right, Dean. If Crowley would ever get an inkling that we have more family anywhere, he wouldn't stop." Sam sat beside his brother and put his hand on Dean's shoulder, if for nothing more than support. For the first time in his life, Sam saw his brother turn green. His eyes were closed again and his hand covered his mouth. Any unexpected pregnancy was difficult, but with the Winchesters, everything multiplied by ten. A child was at risk, just because of his parentage. The father was at risk, because he had a child. A mother would not only be the nurse, appointment maker, housekeeper, kisser of wounds, school teacher, and referee, she'd have to discern spirits and guard against ghosts and demons instead of playground bullies…

All three men sat silently. Dean found himself opening his eyes and quickly closing them again, like he thought he might wake up from a bad dream. He kept his hand where it had resided since the conversation began, and Sam swore he could hear his brother muttering, "Oh, God," under his breath.

The girl started to stir.


	2. Chapter 2

A Gift From Pittsburgh Like Any Other Day—Chapter 2

Dean sat in the same chair, staring at the girl in horror. Sam had to sneak a grin for a moment—his confident, badass older brother looked like he was a kid who was caught stealing and made to tell his parents of his evildoings in spectacular fashion. "Dude-." He nudged his brother and nonverbally cued him to move closer to her while she awoke.

It's no surprise that Dean was in uncharted territory and shuffled towards the girl like he would fall into quicksand at any given moment. He moved towards her and took a seat at her side on the wide leather couch and watched as her eyes rolled in their sockets. _Damn, she's pretty. I remember that look when she woke up the afternoon after. _He smiled for a second, remembering…_Right before she told me to hit the pavement because she had to interview the D.A. of Allegheny County over dinner-I thought she said she was a masseuse…_ She took in a breath and drowsily opened her eyes, and then quickly refocused them and she realized who was sitting beside her.

She jumped.

Dean did, too.

He did his best to smile and pour on the charm, but to everyone else watching he looked like he'd just eaten a lemon. "Hi. Marla, right?"

"Um, yeah. Dirk?" She again looked like she was desperately trying to focus and make sense of where she was and how she got here.

"No-Dean." He had to admit that he was taken back. Girls didn't usually forget _his_ name…

Marla (kind of) acknowledged her mistake and glanced around the room quickly and jumped again, not recognizing her surroundings and also realizing that there were two other men in the room and they were both staring at her. "Where am I? Wh—where am I?!" She began to kick at Dean until he grabbed hold of her wrists and tried to hold her down.

"Hey, hey, hey—it's okay. Calm down—." Dean recoiled as he was met with a small hard fist to his bottom teeth. In one swift move, and before he could grab her again, Marla was over the back of the couch and holding a pugil stick in baseball bat fashion in the direction of all three.

Dean, now standing and rubbing his jaw, looked at her accusingly. "I thought you were a masseuse!"

Marla lowered her weapon for a second and looked at him, confused, then straightened up again. "Oh, yeah. I'm not."

"Well, if it's any consolation-."

Sam, realizing that he brother was getting _nowhere_ to make this any better, moved towards the girl with his hands up in the air, like he was presenting himself to the police. Marla instinctively raised her weapon again in the younger Winchester's direction.

"Hi. I'm Sam. I'm Dean's brother. You're safe. Just give us a minute to explain. You're not in any danger. We're trying to protect you."

Marla looked at him incredulously. "Really. Seems like it."

Dean took a quick step closer and she threatened him with the stick, as well. "Look-put that thing down and we'll tell you what's going on."

Before Marla could conjure another comeback, Cas appeared beside her, took a firm hold of the "bat" and yanked it out of her hands. She yelped, now knowing how this "man" moved so quickly from across the room, and took three steps backwards into a glass case filled with knives and scythes of various sizes. Fear began to seep uncontrollably into her veins, but she couldn't help being a smartass. Maybe it was a coping skill…

"Who are you people? PLEASE tell me you're more Pawn Stars than Texas Chainsaw…"

Cas began to speak. "This is Sam and Dean Winchester, and my name is Castiel. I'm an-."

"Old family friend!" Dean chimed loudly, faking yet another lemon-smile. "He's an old family friend. We call him Cas."

Marla surveyed the room, and began to back away towards what looked like a door. "That's nice. Pleased to meet you," she looked in Dean's direction, "again. But I need to go. I have a meeting. A very important meeting with important people who—are—waiting for me, and-."

"You can't go anywhere." NOW the guy who called himself Castiel was behind her—again—blocking her escape.

That was it. Time for smartassiness was over. _Push the panic button_…

Marla screamed. In her alarm, she turned too quickly and smashed the glass in the aforementioned case with her bare hand. Blood squirted out of her forearm, and before she completely lost her balance, Sam caught her and prevented her from falling into the shards of the floor. "Calm down. It's okay. We got you." He pulled the shaking woman to her feet and as a trust-building offer, he allowed her to walk under her own power back to the couch. She started to cry.

Dean grabbed a towel nearby and sat on the coffee table opposite her. Silently he reached towards her arm and opened it, encouraging her to outstretch her bloody arm. He wrapped the makeshift bandage around it and cued Cas to come closer. _Time for the truth…_

Cas came close, and, of course, Marla recoiled away. He sat beside Dean on the same low table and looked at Marla straight in the eye. "My name is Castiel, and I am an angel of the Lord." He gently laid his hands over her injured arm, and then pulled away the blood-covered towel.

The woman inhaled sharply, her breath still hitching. She looked once, then twice, at her uncut arm and then covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks.

Sam, seeing the absolute _coolness_ of someone being healed, pulled a chair next to the sofa and looked at her. "We're not here to hurt you."

Dean made silent eye contact with his brother, and then took a deep anticipatory breath. "We have a lot to tell you." As gently as he could, he took her hand in his. She noticed he was shaking, as well.


	3. Chapter 3

Like Any Other Day—Chapter 3

Marla stayed quiet. She found, in her line of work, listening was a better technique of getting people to talk than talking herself. In her silence, she allowed herself time to take in the rest of the room. It had high cement walls and pillars and was filled with what looked like might have been high-tech equipment for the 1960's. _Looks like the Bridge in Star Trek_, she mused. She saw a large, beautiful wooden table and another table with a lit map of the world as the top. There were books and relics and weapons _everywhere_. For the life of her, she couldn't even begin to guess what these three were going to tell her. _CIA? Secret surveillance? Of what? I smell a Pulitzer_…_with an angel? A Bonafide Angel of the Lord? I must be on drugs_…

She was torn from her observations by yet another deep breath from her one-night lover. She couldn't help but notice he was still shaking. She'd interviewed a lot of nervous people before, but this dude took the cake. His brow was forming beads of sweat, and as soon as he noticed that she was watching him, he abruptly got up and started to pace and run his hand down the length of his face. She'd been accused once of being a Pit Bull when she was going for the truth in an interview, but right now, her position was too compromised to push, so she didn't. She had to admit, though, she was enjoying the show. Honestly, she became slightly amused when he bent over, put his hands on his knees and started to hyperventilate.

"I'm gonna be sick."

Her minding of Dean's weirdness was interrupted when Sam stepped between her and the object of her attention. She looked up, and then up again. _That's one tall mother fucker_…

He sat in his brother's seat across from her and re-introduced himself. "I'm Sam, and that's my brother, Dean," he started. It was obvious he was choosing his words carefully. "We have been in a—family-run business—for a long time, and it puts us in danger a lot, and unfortunately, you've been—kinda—inducted into it."

Her eyes still scanning the room, she was desperately again trying to piece things together. "Listen—if you're in the mafia, I can handle it. I won't say a word. I'll even move to another state and change my name. I'll put myself in my own witness protection program. For the record, I know nothing. I really don't know what an angel has to do with this, but…"

Sam chortled. "I wish it were that simple."

Cas was growing impatient, and just one more time, his lack of social skill provided an avenue for even more social awkwardness from those who witnessed it. _Why was this such a big deal?_ He glanced quickly at the brothers, Sam before Dean, and again looked her straight in the eye. He exhaled sharply, exasperated. "You're pregnant. The child is Dean's. There are supernatural—celestial-beings who are hoping to bring about their demise, along with the rest of the planet-."

Dean stopped, midgag, and stood straight up, swinging his arms around. "JUST LAY IT OUT FOR HER, CAS!" Without paying attention to her response, he resumed gagging, this time with much more fervor.

Marla looked at Sam, who raised his eyebrows, and curiously, said nothing.

All three men stopped what they were doing when she giggled. Out loud.

She rose from the sofa and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, then turned and giggled some more. "Until three minutes ago, I didn't think angels existed," she started. "Listen, Cas-tiel, thank you for the—whatever you did-but it's IMPOSSIBLE that I'm pregnant. Impossible. We used-."

"You didn't."

Her eyes narrowed and she looked at Dean with the most incriminating stare she could muster. "You didn't—you said you wouldn't—You DIDN'T, did you?"

Sam covered his ears and scrunched his face. _NOT what I want to hear…la la la la la la la la_…

Dean was still hunched over when he looked up at her sheepishly. Full Lemon-Face. He lifted his right hand and made an "inch" sign with his fingers.

Marla lost her breath. "Oh. My. God." She reached out again to the sofa (her new best friend) with both of her hands and sat down again.

Sam, suddenly sober, piped in. "There are demons, and other things, that _hate_ us, and we only brought you here to protect you. They can't get a hold of you, and they can track you down to lure us in, because they know what family means to us."

Both Dean and Marla looked at him, then to each other. Marla teared up again.

Between nauseous breaths, the elder Winchester whispered, "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to bring anyone into this. It's the last thing I ever wanted to do."

Marla surprised herself when she heard herself talk. It was loud. And assertive. And angry. She'd never had an out-of-body experience, but if she ever dreamt of it, it would be just like this…

"Sorry? You're SORRY?! I have a life! I have a dog! And an apartment! I'm a reporter for the Pittsburgh Press and you're telling me you're SORRY? I have a job to do! I have parents and cousins and my own phone number for the first time in my _life_ and you're sorry?! I don't even believe in this shit! How pregnant can I be? We only had sex two and a half days ago!"

"Four hours, thirty six minutes, seventeen seconds-."

All three in unison, tossed Cas the classic WTF look…

Dean cringed and closed his eyes. For the first time in his life, there was no out, no escape, and no one to rescue him. And now he was hanging onto someone innocent and dragging them with him.

Sam looked at his brother. He'd never seen pure unadulterated grief before today…

"We'll solve these things as they arise," Cas stated. "You cannot, _cannot_—leave this bunker under any circumstances. Do you understand?"

Marla thought her mind must have been traveling at 600 miles an hour, and there was no sign of it stopping. She looked at Cas, using the same expression he used with her. "There's nothing you can do about this? You healed my arm and-."

"No. Once a child is destined to this earth, I cannot intervene."

She caught Dean's expression from the corner of her eye, and didn't want to entertain the conversation further. It was clear he knew what she was insinuating and DID NOT approve, judging from the stone-cold, icy stare…it wasn't that she liked the idea either; in fact, it went against every fiber of her being to even _think_ it, but then again, you can't blame a girl, can you? Especially a girl who's the target of everything evil in the world?

"So I'm the lucky girl, huh? Great."

It was then that Dean found his footing. Sam watched as he stood straight and tall and spoke with authority, much like their own father did. He smiled in spite of the deep shit they were in_. It only took him four hours, thirty six minutes and seventeen seconds for him to realize…_

"Let me tell you something. You might not be happy with this, and it's a surprise to me, too, but you couldn't have a better set of people looking out for you_. It's what we do_. And as far as being a father, I've been one since I was _four_ and our mother was killed by a fucking demon who wanted him-." He pointed to Sam. "—And you know what? He didn't get him, and he never will, because of who HE IS and who I AM. Demons want us dead, but you wanna know something else? They _FEAR_ us, and if they touch you, or my kid, it'll make Hell look like Candyland when we're done with 'em. Oh, and there's more: WE stopped the Apocalypse. WE did. Your baby daddy saved the world and you didn't even know it." He grabbed his jacket and walked towards the door. "I'm going for a drive."


	4. Chapter 4

Like Any Other Day—Chapter 4

Author's Note: I know nothing of the ARBOR HILLS NATURE PRESERVE in Plano, Texas…never been there…everything described is just how I envisioned it…All I know is that it is a real place…a huge THANK YOU to everyone who has read my fic and took the time to review, especially Edy12345 and an unnamed Guest—you know who you are! You are the cabbage to my cole slaw and the peaches in my pie! The description of the toddler's gait came from The Pokey Little Puppy—I must have read that book a billion times when my kids were small—it is, above and beyond all else, my favorite Little Golden Book and I will treasure those moments until the day I die…

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Now, when Dean Winchester says he's gonna take a drive, he takes a drive. In the Impala was where he truly felt like himself—the demon-hunting, Sammy-watching, ghost-burning hunter extraordinaire he had been since as long as he could remember. _Add 'baby-making' to that description, _he thought…his emotions ran a wide gamut of experience, and often he would find himself speeding up when they started to overwhelm him. _A baby? A BABY? In the bunker? A baby in a bunker? This is nuts, he thought to himself…what am I gonna do? I'm gonna be a father, that's what I'm gonna do…Time to be responsible…Oh, God, I have to be a role model…some little kid is gonna be watching every move I make and trying to imitate me. Maybe it'll be a girl—oh, no—PLEASE don't let it be a girl—it would be poetic justice, I guess…_He smiled to himself, picturing the day 15 years from now when some punk kid comes to the front door looking to date her…

_If the bunker doesn't scare him away, maybe the holy water mixed with borax and a quick splash in the face will…_

_((Dean opens door.))_

_Potential Boyfriend: "Hi." ((Splash—hopefully it ends there and he runs away)) "I'm here for Rebecca."_

_DaddyDean: Dammit. ((Silently opens the front door wider, never abandoning his stare of the boy who is attracted to his daughter.))_

_Potential Boyfriend: ((Timidly walks over the threshold.)) Well, there's pass #1…_

_DaddyDean: ((Looks outside for his car.)) If it's a Toyota, he's outta here…((Sees a '71 Roadrunner)) Alright, he gets a second pass…for now….((closes door behind potential boyfriend, deliberately slamming it))_

_Potential boyfriend: ((Sees weapons of all kinds at the bottom of the stairs)) _

_DaddyDean: ((Says nothing.)) There's 446 ways to cut your dick off in here._

_Potential boyfriend: ((Smiles nervously)) I think I like my dick where it is…thank you._

_DaddyDean: ((Smiles back…for a second…resumes intimidating stare))_

_Daughter: "Daddy, is he here?"_

Dean blinked himself out of his reverie when he thought of a child calling him 'daddy.' _Daddy. _For the 705th time today, he lost his breath, and the nausea returned. He looked up through the windshield and saw a sign that said: ARBOR HILLS NATURE PRESERVE, Plano Texas, and decided that he should take a pee break and head back to Kansas…

He opened the car door and relished in the familiar sound of the squeak it made. Closing it behind him, he emitted a groan as he stretched his stiff legs and strolled over to a split-rail fence and rested his foot on the lower beam. It was early June and the trees danced with the breeze that caressed them. A small lake glimmered in front of him and he smiled as a duck and her young swam by. The air was crisp and refreshing and carried the scent of campfires that continued to smolder even after the flames were extinguished. He closed his eyes, lifted his face and allowed the sun to warm it for a moment. It was a good idea to take a drive. Most of the time, it allowed him regain the clarity and peace of mind he needed in moments of confusion—he used it a lot when Sam was sick even though he was in the passenger seat beside him…

Apparently, God thought he needed a little more encouragement.

He opened his eyes quickly when he heard a squeal behind him. His hackles went up and he felt his heart rate increase. _Showtime—in the middle of the fucking day in a family park_…HunterDean emerged and was ready to engage and rip apart whatever it was—it was shrill and screetchy and high pitched, and…

Two feet tall.

And cute as hell.

A tiny blond toddler ran from behind the restrooms, his legs wildly carrying him in a roly-poly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble unsteady stride. His striped t-shirt and blue overalls were a little too big for his frame and threatened to fall off his shoulders with each abrupt step he took. Dean's interest continued to pique as he watched a chubby guy chasing after him, pretending to be a monster. When he caught up with the child, he seized him with both hands and hoisted him in the air, eliciting yet another squeal with peals of laughter and giggles…

Dean smiled. The man caught sight of him and waved as the still-giggling child wrapped his wee arms around the bigger man's neck. He headed towards Dean, wiping his brow with a faded red bandana.

"How are ya?" The man greeted, extending his hand.

"Great," Dean responded kindly, returning the gesture. "That's a handsome boy ya got there."

"Yes, he is." The child, no more than two, glanced at Dean and then hid his face in the man's collar. He had long gray curly hair and a beard that matched it. His jeans were well-worn, as was the denim shirt that fit snuggly around his impressive beer belly and work boots. "I waited for him for a long time. Never thought we'd have any. He's been a blessing since we knew he was coming."

"Congratulations."

"You have any?"

Dean cleared his throat and broke eye contact with the stranger. "Ah-Not yet. Soon." _Fucking nausea…_

Noticing the absence of a wedding ring on the younger man's finger, the man nodded. "A bit of a surprise, then?"

Taken back by the man's candor, Dean thought, _You know, why not? I'll never see him again…_he nodded and tried to fake a smile.

The man smiled back as if he knew exactly what Dean was thinking. "Scared shitless, huh?"

"You could say that."

The man continued to grin, even through Dean's apparent discomfort. "'Name's Bob."

"Dean."

"Lemme tell ya somethin' Dean," Bob started, "There ain't nothin' in the world that'll fill you up the way your own kid does. I brag about him to everyone I meet. I might be old, I might be worn, and I've seen more world on my bike than most sailors in a lifetime, but I can tell you, ain't nothin' to compare when you hold 'em for the first time and they look atcha like you're made a' gold. Put all that shit you got going on up there to rest, son, everything 'll be fine."

Dean smiled and extended his hand again. "Thank you."

"Any time."

Bob turned and headed down a nearby path, holding the child once again above his head and giggling along with him. Dean watched until he couldn't see them anymore, then decided he should get back home before nightfall…


End file.
